You Know Where I'm At
by Ballykissangel
Summary: My personal Mycroft and Anthea headcanon collection of some lovely Mythea friendship. A mix of genres, 221B's, AU's and Wholock. Mostly one shots, ideas, and prompts with broken fleels, angsty fluff and unhappy endings because we always need more Mycroft and Anthea appreciation. Prompts and reviews are muse food.
1. Beside You

_A/N: This piece was originally in my Comedies and Tragedies drabble but I wanted to keep all of my Mycroft and Anthea chapters over here so I did some re-arranging.  
_

_Hope you enjoy reading it for the first time or maybe even the second time._

_Disclaimer: I do not own 'Sherlock' I'm just visiting around with them._

* * *

It felt like he had run for hours, when in reality it had only been ten minutes. Mycroft slowed his pace, panting heavily for breath as he bent his head, resting his hands on his knees.

"Keep moving, you can do it."

Mycroft raised his head, scowling fiercely as Anthea jogged toward him. Shaking his head in frustration, he turned and walked away from her. "That's it. I'm done."

Anthea jogged past, stopping suddenly in front of him. "You can't stop."

"And why can't I?" He snapped.

"Because, the next time your brother gets into trouble and you decide to do your own field work to go after him and you find yourself running breathlessly beside an empty goods van, I may not be there to help you up."

Mycroft paused; his anger melting as he remembered how he barely managed to make the goods train they had jumped and the look on Anthea's face as he almost missed grabbing her outstretched hand.

"Someday, you're going to have to learn to run alone," Anthea whispered, looking sincerely into his troubled eyes.

"I can't imagine a place where you do not run beside me, A."

She smiled softly, reaching up and smoothing his hair. "Come on, then."

They ran a mile that morning without pausing for breath.

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_A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. All prompts and reviews are muse food and deeply appreciated.  
_

_I absolutely love their friendship, it's almost like Sherlock and John's. Only it's more Mycrofy.  
_


	2. Silent Compromise

The building was peaceful and silent as Anthea slipped into her office, locking the door behind her. She always enjoyed the few quiet moments to herself before the noise and business of the day took over. Mycroft hadn't arrived yet and she still had a few minutes alone and to prepare her thoughts for when he saw her that morning.

Turning to face the mirror that covered the back of her office door, she looked at the woman who stood before her in the mirror's image. Her green eyes traced her hairline that hid a faded, jagged edged scar. She had never minded the scar. It wasn't the first and most certainly would not be the last mark of violence that she carried or would receive on her body. Each one had a separate story and history that even Mycroft hadn't discovered yet. Some of the scars were silent reminders of the innocents protected; of duty fulfilled, but there were some she wished she could forget.

She raised her lavender colored blouse and stiffly turned to see her side better in the reflection. On her left side, a large blue and purple bruise blossomed up to her rib cage. She had received her newest collection of bruises the night before at an old boxing gym which also served as a rudimentary and unsanctioned fight club that hosted weekly fight nights.

The elderly Irish man who had announced her before the eager, smoke covered crowd, winked at her and with a slight bow and a flourish of his withered hand, introduced her to her opponent. Anthea remembered the grin of satisfaction of the large Swedish man who stood in the dimly lit and rundown arena. The wrapping on his hands bloodstained from his last victim.

The predominately male crowd broke into a raucous cheer of excitement and delight, the minute she stepped fully into the light.

At the beginning of the fight, she'd pretended to block feebly and move slowly; letting him land a few choice punches. She had let him land a blow on her side and various other places that would be easy to cover up when they bruised. Not too many of course, she had to go to work the next morning and Mycroft would frown in disapproval when he would observe her the next day.

It had been amusing to watch her adversary's face as his cold, emotionless eyes registered immediate victory and desolation of the tiny woman before him. It was even more amusing when she got bored with his antics and insulting slurs and started to fight back; all acting aside, mixing in some of her own calculated methods and powerful attacks that had hurt and confused him.

His face had changed from triumphant and cocky, to panic and desperation as the woman in front of him grew stronger and swifter like she was just playing a game with him; always being one step ahead of him like she could read his mind and knowing what his next move would be.

As she had calculated and gracefully intercepted his wild punches; she thought about picking up the dry cleaning. Mycroft would need his new suit pressed for the next day. Finally ready to end the tedious intellect over brawn game, her mind had automatically filled in the proper moves to finish him in the remaining thirty seconds and she walked away leaving his large body in a tidy supine position on the arena floor.

After the fight, she pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and slipped through the ragged crowd to find a quiet spot to call DI Lestrade, and calmly inform him of an illegal fight club in progress.

She wasn't sorry to see the establishment go, as there were plenty of other places to have a good fight when her thoughts grew too heavy and when she couldn't sleep; needing to get away from a world of colorless schedules, black umbrellas and business suits. There were many dark nights like that.

She had visited that gym's fight nights several times and she had fought and, rather disappointingly, defeated everyone that was worth fighting and eventually everyone that wasn't. It was therefore without regret that she had sat on a nearby roof top; her legs hanging over the edge as she watched the police raid and the flashing lights of the police cars.

A brisk knock on the door summoned her, interrupted Anthea's thoughts. With a sigh she glanced at her watch and realised she had lost track of the time. Mycroft would be in his office now and wanting his morning tea. She lowered her blouse and smoothed the creases; taking a deep breath and settling herself back into the role of PA.

As expected, Mycroft frowned darkly at her the minute she walked into his office. His sharp eyes discreetly ran over her impeccable appearance and they narrowed with displeasure as if he could see to see the ugly bruises through her clothes and was mentally cataloging the degree of their severity. But as all the times before, he didn't try to talk to her about it.

It was always like that between them. She never mentioned the stash of chocolate bars in his desk and he never mentioned her occasional night escapades because some days, one of them needed a bit of chocolate and the other needed an exercise class disguised a fighting lesson.

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_A/N: I am wanting to start an Anthea story community this week. If you have written or know of any lovely Anthea and Mycroft stories please let me know so that I can add them to my list. I'm also looking for a few people with a love for Anthea to help staff the community._

_Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the new chapter. Anthea is simply fantastic to write  
_

_I promise I haven't forgotten about my Mrs. Hudson death series or my Wholock series. They are still in progress =)_


	3. Sick Days and Caring PA's

_This 221B is for the lovely jack63kids. Just because =)_

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Mycroft Holmes would have to admit that being sick was on the list of his top five most hated things. With a groan, he wiped his nose with a tissue and discarded it into the overflowing waste bin. Feeling the threat of another approaching sneeze, he hurriedly pulled out tissue number seventy-five. The sneeze made his head pound horribly.

He miserably shifted around on the settee; hating the feeling of helplessness and not being able to work. He closed his eyes against the pain of his chest and head. Mycroft normally didn't mind being alone, but something about being sick made him want company. He decided he must be critically ill if he was that desperate. As the front door slid open, he weakly pulled himself up and saw that it was Anthea, damp from the rain and carrying a grocery bag.

"I thought you were working at the office," Mycroft asked crossly.

"I finished up early," she replied with a sympathetic smile, handing him a box of paracetamol. Mycroft took it gratefully; he had run out an hour ago.

"Did you bring any sugar-free cookies?" Mycroft asked hopefully, but Anthea disappeared into the kitchen with the groceries. His disappointment vanished when she reappeared with a double dip chocolate ice cream cone.

"No," she said, "I brought you something even better."


	4. Apologies and Mayo Sandwiches

_For codenamepenguin and our love for mayo sandwiches.  
_

* * *

Anthea's stomach growled. It was 3:30 in the afternoon and she had completely forgotten about lunch. Mycroft had been irritable all day towards her. He didn't usually snarl at her, but today he did; even though she had patiently stayed beside him during the meeting with the Prime Minister, and helped him buy a present for his parent's anniversary.

She was filled with relief when they got back to the office and she finally managed to settle him down with his lunch, and silently make her escape to file paperwork

"You didn't eat lunch today, I know it's a habit from the old days, but when you are here, you should always eat something."

Startled, Anthea lifted her head and found Mycroft standing in the doorway holding a plate with a sandwich on it.

"I forgot," she replied hesitantly. "Time got away from me."

"I made you something," Mycroft said, gently laying the sandwich on the desk. "It's not fancy, but I hope you'll eat it."

Anthea examined the gift in surprise.

"A mayonnaise sandwich, "she whispered, looking up at Mycroft."I love mayonnaise sandwiches."

Mycroft nodded. "I know."

Anthea smiled, accepting the humble apology for his behavior. "It's been a long time since anyone's made me a mayo sandwich."

"Well then," Mycroft replied, "I shall have to do better."


	5. Mycroft the Beautician

Anthea tiredly sat down on the edge of the hotel bed. Her arm ached terribly; reminding her of the icy stair case she had met with last week. It also reminded her that she had to get ready for Mycroft's business meeting and her hair was a complete mess. She sighed as the thought of lifting her arm to curl her hair made her cringe inside. A soft knock on the door made her look up to see Mycroft walk in. He was already dressed and wearing his newest suit that Anthea picked out.

"A, are you almost ready?"

"Just about. I only need to curl my hair and a higher class meeting takes more than a side pony tail."

Mycroft nodded respectfully; observing the way Anthea held her arm, and the dark circles underneath her eyes. He was always reminding to watch out for icy spots, but she never listened and would "fall with style" as she laughingly called it.

He silently walked over to her, picking up the heated curling iron from the dresser.

"Allow me."

Before Anthea could move, he got up onto the bed, wiggled himself behind her on his knees, and began to gently and carefully curl her long dark hair.

As the folds of hair hid her face. Anthea whispered gratefully, "Thank you, boss."


End file.
